


Lobelia

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, F/F, F/M, M/M, quadrant flipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dualscar, having graduated from training, is required to pick a psionic to train and use for the rest of its life. He chooses a powerful young yellowblood, not knowing that the two of them are tied together by fate. No matter how much one of them wants to deny it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Dualscar noticed was the smell. It smelled like rot, as if thousands of pounds of meat were left to fester, gathering maggots and breeding diseases. And, he figured, it kind of was. 

As a newly ordained Orphaner, Dualscar was expected to choose a psionic to train and use for the rest of his time as a general. He had heard horror stories from the older students, but never really believed them. Now, finding himself standing in a three inch deep puddle of yellow blood, he knew that none of the students had any idea how horrible it would really be. 

The wall was lined with what looked like recoupracoons, but upon closer inspection were actually made of a clear organic membrane. The liquid inside was also most definitely not sopor. It wasn’t green, for one, but a varying number of colors in different pods. From what he could see, there were mostly yellow pods, with the occasional rust or brown dotting the row. But the true horror was what was inside the slime.

Connected to thousands of wires -not wires, he noted with disgust, but needle thin tentacles- were creatures that one might almost mistake for a troll. They looked sickening, many of them with atrophied muscles or missing limbs. The wounds than nearly all of them sustained were obviously left untreated, as they leaked multi-colored pus into the slime. 

Dualscar glanced at his guide, a rather timid looking teal blood. She had refused to look him in the eye since he arrived, preferring instead to look at his shoes or at a point over his shoulder. She looked as if she wanted to say something at his obvious discomfort, but seemed to think better of it and continued walking.

“These are the, um, healthier psionics.” She said, gesturing to the membrane pods. Dualscar glanced at a particularly mangled lime blood, and shuddered at the thought of an even worse case. His guide stopped abruptly, and turned to face the taller troll. “You are permitted, to pick one psionic to be your personal helmsman, should you train it properly---” Dualscar tuned out her rehearsed speech in favor of focusing on his prospective slaves. He wasn’t particularly impressed by any of them. He was about to inspect a rather strong looking rustblood, but stopped short.

“Repeat that.” The tealblood looked flustered at the order. She obviously had no idea what to do now that her speech was interrupted. He glowered down at her, making her squeak before speaking.

“Sh-Sh-Should you fail to train your psionic to properly do its duty, you will be culled and the psionic will be taken for scrap par--” Dualscar cut her off.

“Why was I not informed of this. Shouldn’t this be something you tell us?” The tealblood shook with fear.

“I’m s-s-sorry sir, students are not informed for their own safety! There would be mass panic, and--” Dualscar’s glare increased, cutting her short. “P-Please just choose a psionic, not many fail training, so someone of your impressive strength should—“

“Oh shut up.” Her jaw closed with a snap. He turned away from her, inspecting the psionics. They looked weak, as if a single tap from his claw would make them shatter. Dualscar moved down the line, stopping occasionally at the larger, more defined creatures. 

The teal blood, thankfully, seemed more than happy to stay back. It was apparent that his presence, that is the presence of a seadweller, scared her. He turned to harass her into showing him another batch, but froze as he felt eyes boring holes into the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned. In one of the nondescript yellow pods, an emaciated psionic peered out through the thin wall.

“Should they be awake?” The teal blood seemed startled at his question. She was annoyingly jumpy. 

“N-No, the slime sedates their psionic powers to the point of them losing consciousness.” 

Dualscar grinned. He thought so. Hopefully his hunch was right, and there wasn’t just a malfunction with the sedation levels.

“I’ll take that one.” He gestured to the yellowblooded psionic. It seemed to be feigning sleep again.

The tealblood bowed, thankful to be near to getting rid of his presence. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Just bring him to my damn hive.”

 

He woke with a groan, feeling strange. He wondered if the Trainers had tried something new on him, given him a higher dose of sedative, or taken a limb. But he couldn’t quite pinpoint what felt wrong. With a jolt, he realized what it was. Nothing hurt. 

Dimly, he wondered if he had finally been allowed to die, if the most recent attempt to tear out his nutrition tube succeeded. But that couldn’t be right, because if he was dead he certainly wouldn’t be able to feel the cold, mossy stone floor beneath him.

He peeled his face from the damp moss. Rather than feeling comforting, the cool surface was alien to his skin. He had hardly been out of his pod, much less seen living plants. It, frankly, terrified him.

The psionic looked around slowly, staying seated. It seemed as if he was in some sort of cave, although it was much too ornate to be entirely natural. Moss grew everywhere, along with other swamp flora, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust. There was no metal in sight, save some decorative silver fastenings holding paintings and large white shells to the wall. No, not shells. Bones. 

The psionic’s heart stopped for a moment, thinking he was about to be culled for certain and added to this madtroll’s collection.

On closer inspection, he realized the bones were from various lusii. It wasn’t quite as unsettling, but still made his stomach churn. So he was sold to an Orphaner, then.

At least he wouldn’t be used in a naval ship, he figured. He’d heard stories of psionics burning alive from the inside out from the sheer power it takes. But then, the stories were from the trainers, so most likely were just rumor. 

Just as he was trying to gather the courage to attempt to stand for the first time in sweeps, he heard a splash from behind him. There was a hole in the floor that he couldn’t see from his vantage point, filled with water from what he could tell. A seatroll, then. 

He arranged his legs under him in a kneel, keeping his eyes on the emerging troll. It was clearly male, and a rather intimidating one at that, despite their apparent similarity in age. 

His eyes widened imperceptivity as he noticed the deep purple armor. He didn’t know blood could even go that high, much less that they would bother training a psionic themselves. 

He averted his eyes, keeping them glued to the others polished boots. He, clad only in a yard or so of cloth in his blood color, felt inadequate and small in comparison. He hoped that the large troll in front of him was not quite as terrifying as he looked.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a surprising amount of paperwork for such a small ordeal. Dualscar had followed the teal blood out of the display room, much to his relief. 

But rather than being led back to the ship with the rest of his class, he was sent to a small office and given a stack of paperwork. From the look the teal blood gave him as he opened his mouth to complain, there was no getting out of it. Most of it was legal jargon, and the rest needed only an affirmation of his ability to not kill a valuable asset to the Empire and a signature. A waste of his time, honestly.

Finally, hours later, another teal blood came by to pick it up. He'd been done with it for a good while, and had amused himself with throwing various writing implements at the ceiling. The disapproving look he received was met with an equally haughty glare. Wisely, she didn't mention the damages, and Dualscar was led out of the office with minimal complaining.

“And your charge has been brought to your hive, where he--” Fucking hell, those midbloods really do love to hear themselves talk. And this time it was all stuff he'd heard before.

“Don't we get a fucking manual for this? Why are you even bothering telling me all of this now.” Alright, that came out a little more petulant that he'd intended. Mental note to work on that.

And again with the stammering. Are all teals this dumb or is he just unlucky?

“W-Well, yes, but it's still pertinent to the Empire to--” The teal was tripping over herself. This one was almost as bad as the last. And the pitiful attempt to play to his loyalties was pathetic.

He wondered if the psionic would be awake when he arrived.

There wasn't much more to do after that, much to his relief, and after another thankfully smaller bout of paperwork he was led onto the ship with the rest of his (now tired and annoyed) classmates. They all stood around lazily bragging about the powerful psionic they bagged, one claiming she'd even gotten a psionic greenblood. Naturally, Dualscar chimed in with his own. It really wouldn't do to think that they had gotten a better catch than the valedictorian himself. 

It'd still be a few hours till they arrived back at the coast, and after a while the talk shifted from psionics to adult names.

“Man, I still think Ampora's got it the best. How'd you even manage to score a name like Dualscar anyway?” Alraki was the second best in the class, but despite this held nothing but admiration for the seadweller. Creepy, creepy admiration. “Bet it's 'cause you fucked the instructor.” 

“Oh come off it. You're just jealous didn't fuck you at the grad party.” His comment was joined with a chorus of laughter. It wasn't a secret that Alraki had been lusting after Dualscar practically since their hatching day. It would have been pathetic, maybe even pitiable, if the blind devotion wasn't so creepy. They weren't even of pailing age yet, and he knew for a fact that Alraki had at least two pails in his quarters.

If Dualscar hadn't been sworn into secrecy, and hadn't wanted the wonderful blackmail, Alraki would be the class pervert. He was careful not to let this power go to his head. Too much. Another round of laughter at whatever Alraki replied with was cut off as a loud ding went through the cockpit. 

“Arriving, prepare to disembark.”

Cheering came up from the crowd, all of whom were tired and just wanted to rest. Their psionics wouldn't be awake until sometime after dusk, so that gave them a good few hours to sleep. 

Much to his chagrin, Dualscar realized he wouldn't be resting any time soon. If his hunch was right, and his psionic was indeed more powerful than it let on, it will already be awake when he arrives. Wonderful.

Being valedictorian (something he was quite proud of thank you very much), his adult hive was a tad larger than his former classmates'. He was given three floors instead of two, the top two composed of air chambers as per his request. His sleeping quarters, as well as a lounge and other luxuries, were of course below water. And unfortunately so was the nearest entrance, as the ship dropped them off underwater.

For a seadweller, Dualscar was notoriously uncomfortable in the water. Sure, he was just as deadly as on land, but when given the choice preferred the feel of air passing through his gills than the gummy feeling of water.

He yawned and bid Alraki a stern goodbye as the other troll attempted to follow him into his hive. Unfortunately, being so close in skill, they were given hives in close proximity to each other in hopes of an alliance or rivalry forming. That wasn't going to happen any time soon though, as Alraki was more of an annoyance than a threat or valuable ally. 

The muffled sound of the underwater door whooshing shut was a huge relief. It was soundproofed, so the only noise was from the various fish he kept around to eat any algae or other pests that may decide to take root. A particularly brave one swam by his cheek and brushed against his fins, but he was too tired for a snack. 

He brushed it away and continued down the entryway, stopping briefly in his room. His current clothes stank of the Center; he could only imagine the stench his psionic carried. It'd need a good bath, first thing, if it hadn't gone on a rampage. Shit, he didn't even think of that. It's not uncommon for scared and cornered psionics to lash out, often destroying everything in their path til they calmed down. He hoped they didn't put it in his trophy room.

A quick change of clothes later, and he headed up to the second floor. A glimpse of himself in the mirror made him stop and frown. The simple, flowy tunics seadwellers preferred weren't exactly imposing... Another few changes and he settled on his ceremonial armor. After all, he was nothing if not excessive. And he didn't know what awaits above him; for all he knew, the armor would come in handy.

Finally, he was ready. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tightening of nerves, and blew out a cloud of bubbles. He could do this. It was just a psionic, after all.

He poked his head tentatively, silently, out of the water. The psionic wasn't facing him, leaving him to simply observe it for a moment. It looked slightly healthier already; the psionic's pallid skin seemed to have regained some color, and it seemed able to sit itself up with little difficulty. He doesn't know how long it has been awake, but when it makes a move to stand he makes his entrance. 

Head held high, shoulders back, feet apart, arms locked behind his back. Years of tutelage on the art of looking imposing had better pay off, and from the way the psionic's eyes (bright, bright eyes, he didn't know eyes could glow like that) averted from his chest to glue to his feet it seemed to work. It wasn't shaking with fear, but that was forgivable. 

God, it reeked. Dualscar knew it would, but he'd at least hoped they'd hose it down or something. It had dried and crusted slime all over it, and its hair was matted to a shell. And the state of its clothing, if you could call it that, was pathetic. Not to mention the fact that even while sitting it was more than easy to count each of the sharp ribs poking at paper thin skin. 

“...So. You got a name, psionic?” Smooth, Dualscar. Real smooth.

“..........”

Great, it's a mute. Just his luck. 

“Okay..... Well then you hungry?” It twitched a bit at the mention of food. Well at least it's not deaf. “Good. You'll get your food after you get a bath, you reek.”

 

This seadweller was a lot kinder than the trainers made them out to be. He had yet to raise even a boot at him, much less any of the various tortures he'd been told about. And he was even offering him food! Real food! From the way the seatroll said it, he dared to hope it was actual food and not something fed through a tube.

But, he chided himself, it wasn't safe to trust this one yet. It could turn out like the others; the ones that acted nice until they had something to gain. No, he had to stay on guard. Plus, this one had seen him awake. He's sure of it. He vaguely remembers the flash of purple before succumbing to the sedatives again, but he's sure that's why he's here.

“....Captor.” The word feel strange coming out of his mouth, like trying to breath through gravel. Even he'd had a name before becoming a part of the training corps; it was one of the few things the psionics had that the Center could not take away. 

 

The seatroll raised an eyebrow. 

“Captor? What, you don't have an adult name yet?” Shit, maybe he was supposed to give him an adult name. That would be hard. Dualscar wasn't known for his creativity, although he could write some very moving poetry. 

A shake of the head confirmed his thoughts. Great. Well, another problem for another day.

“Fine, fine. Well then, Captor, let's get you cleaned up.” There was a bath in the guest room, it would have to do. Shit, he'd probably have to carry it there. It didn't look to be in any condition to walk on its own. 

 

Oh god, here's the point he'd been dreading. There's no way his atrophied limbs could support his (albeit minimal) weight, much less enough to walk. He'd have to crawl. 

Although Captor had abandoned his pride long ago, he couldn't quite shake off a sense of degradation. Silently cursing his treacherous legs, he moved to make for the other troll, but ended up simply falling over. Shame burned on his face, turning it a disgusting shade of mustard yellow. 

He heard a curse from above him and flinched, expecting the impact of a boot at any moment. But it didn't come. Tentatively, Captor lifted his head to look at the seadweller. The other hadn't made any movements, but just looked down at him with something akin to embarrassment. Great, he'd already embarrassed the troll who had sway over his life, and it hasn't even been an hour. He let his head fall back onto the mossy floor. At this rate he was going to get himself culled. 

A few tense seconds passed, and then Captor heard the rustle of damp fabric before being unceremoniously lifted into the seadwellers arms.

“H-Hey!” He cried out more in surprise than anything else. He immediately went into a coughing fit, dislodging perigees old slime from his lungs and onto his chest. Luckily it didn't seem to have gotten on the seadweller, however by the wrinkling of his nose it couldn't have been pleasant. 

“What, you don't want food? No bath, no food.” If even entertaining the thought wasn't suicide Captor would probably decide he hated this troll. He was just so goddamn hungry.

He went limp in the seadwellers arms. The larger troll just sighed.

“I don't mind carrying you. If it makes you feel better we can forget about it as soon as you can walk.” Captor blinked up owlishly at the seadweller, his luminescent eyes glowing brighter. Maybe he didn't hate this one just yet, despite the fact that the other seemed to immediately regret his words. 

 

The feeling of the warm body against his was not unpleasant. However he could do without the sharp bones digging into wherever his armor didn't cover. It was light, impossibly light, especially since Dualscar had always been told that lowbloods had higher bone density than seatrolls. It would be work, but Dualscar was sure he could get it back into working order. 

The small troll's eyes were creepy. Eyes shouldn't glow like that, not unless they're some sort of bioluminescent sea troll. Dualscar had only seen one before, as they tend to stay in the deep parts of the ocean, and this thing was nothing like them.

They stared at each other in silence, both measuring up the other, before Dualscar tore his eyes away.

“God, you reek.” He said, pulling a face. It really, really did. 

Much to his surprise, the formerly silent troll wheezed a bit. Thinking it was choking, Dualscar clutched it tighter and jumped a bit.

“W-What are--”

Oh. It was laughing. The sound was stale, like air escaping a sealed basement. It wasn't exactly pleasant. And from the looks of it, the small thing in his arms was just as surprised at the noise as he was, which only made it laugh harder. 

Dualscar could blame it on stress, on the nerves built up over the day, but he joined the yellowblood in laughing until he was wheezing himself. The two of them laughed at each other laughing for a few more moments before it died down enough for both of them to be mortified.

“So um....bath was it?” Dualscar said, still holding the psionic. “Keep an eye open, I ain't gonna give you a tour so you gotta remember things yourself.” It was a blatant lie, but neither cared. The psionic would be glued to Dualscar's side for a few perigees at least before it would even be ready to piss without him watching.

The bath was really nice, and surprisingly well-used considering the seatroll spent a lot of time in water anyway. Bottles and jars of various pomades and sweet-smelling lotions lined the shelves around the sunken bath, which was in fact large enough to hold quite a good number of trolls. What can he say, seatrolls are treated right.

“Now uh, you aren't allergic to anything?” Shit, he hadn't even read the care sheet. Shit shit shit, he didn't want to kill it on accident! Culling is one thing but neglect is a whole other legal battle.

The psionic just looked up at him with creepy eyes and a furrowed brow, as if he were trying to remember. After a moment of hesitation it shook its head negative. Oh thank god.

He let out sigh of relief. Well, now to pick the soaps.... He had a lot of honey scented ones, unfortunately. An ass-kissing underclassman had given them to him as a wriggling day present, and he'd made a point not to use them where that troll could even possibly smell it. Let's see......Soaps, bubblies, hair care... Perfect.

“Hope you don't mind honey.” Ha. Mind honey. Dualscar you're hilarious, you crack yourself up.

Luckily the psionic seemed to perk up at that, its eyes glowing a happy blue/red. Good; Dualscar had so much of this crap that he might as well use it.

Two jars, three bottles, a loofa, a pile of shed armor resting just outside the door, and a bath full of slightly steaming water and bubbles later and everything was ready. Dualscar looked back on where he had set the psionic. It hadn't taken its eyes off of him the entire time, and although it was clearly still slightly delirious from the copious amounts of sedatives still flowing through its veins it seemed pretty awake. Definitely more than it should be, which was stone cold passed out. Yet moments ago it had been laughing in his arms. Something was off about this one, and although it hadn't done anything yet that didn't mean it wouldn't try something soon. 

He shook his head, cursing aloud. These thoughts weren't going to get him anywhere. His psionic was powerful, that much was assured. He'd deal with any problems when they presented themselves, being paranoid would only make his actions irrational. He took a moment to breathe in the sweet smell of honey, the sweetness calming his nerves. He really did like honey.

He glanced back again to the psionic. It stank, tainting the sweet smell with something rotten. This would not do.

Now, time to make it stop smelling like death and the backside of a musclebeast.

**Author's Note:**

> "Lobelia" is the name of a flower meaning arrogance or malevolence. It comes in many colors, but is most popular in purple.


End file.
